


dead, decaying flowers

by karmascoffee



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Multi, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karmascoffee/pseuds/karmascoffee
Summary: being stan's stupid rebound has its consequences





	dead, decaying flowers

**Author's Note:**

> ive kept this in my drafts for about 5 months and idk what to do w it. im not into south park anymore but I intended to finish it off with a second chapter at the least ): if I get enough kudos to know that you guys want more ill write it!!

Stans arms tightened around you, shoulders relaxed. It was a usual sight; empty bottles of beer and cigarettes sprawled across the floor while you comforted the boy from his troubles. His cries were white noise as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear. Stan ignores most of it, nothing you say would ever relieve him from his pain. But his actions say otherwise when he holds you even tighter.

“Stan. Listen to me, you can’t keep going through the same process not expecting to get hurt.”

As much as this was directed towards him, you were mainly comforting yourself. It was brutally obvious he didn’t same the share feelings towards you. No, he only cared about his ex, his on and off girlfriend, his abuser. Or in his words, ‘the love of my life’. It didn’t matter how many times he gets consoled that the relationship was a waste of his time. After a few days his arm will be around her waist and the cycle repeats. It was pitiful, really, but you couldn’t really blame him. Both of you had severe abandonment issues.

It always starts the same way; Stan calling you over, drunk, saying that he needs you. You never decline, why would you? He’s your friend, friends don’t do that. Deep down you knew the true reason why you comply so easily to his pleas but admitting that to yourself would break you. Instead, you cope by surrounding yourself with your friends, your animals, anything that will cause you to stop thinking about the raven-haired boy. Of course, it never works. All your thoughts circle back to him.

God how you hated him. You hated him with every fiber of your being. You hated how he still praised his girlfriend after countless break ups. You hated how his skull was so thick he still stayed with her after all the pain she’s caused. You hated how he didn’t realize the person who loved him the most was _right there_. It frustrated you to no end.. and yet. You still stayed. Every text, every call, you answered. You depended on him for company. No matter how much it ached.

-

You held the boxes of his favorite chocolate closer to your chest. After 5 executive years of crushing over him you finally realized it was time to pop the question. It took months of planning and effort to build up the confidence to stand in front of his doorstep with your heart on your sleeve. But it was going to be worth it. He was gonna crawl back to that bitch any day from now so it was your chance.

Assuming Stan would be alone, you picked up the spare key from under a rock in his bushes. It was risky, sure. If by the slight chance you walked in and his parents saw your dolled up face with a box of chocolates, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. ‘At least that’s better than not doing it at all’ you sighed and turned the lock. There was no going back.

By looking around the first floor and even checking the backyard it came to your surprise no one was there. You figured he was probably in his room, so you went there next. The door was slightly ajar and by walking closer you could hear faint grunts and moans coming from inside. He surely wasn’t masturbating now……was he? You contemplated in going back but you knew by bailing you wouldn’t ever try doing this again. Sucking up your pride you reached for the doorknob.

“Holy shit.. Stan.. That feels so good…”

ah.

Ah.

Ah…

You stopped dead in your tracks and immediately let go of the knob. Everything was a blur. The words wouldn’t stop ringing in your head. But you only had one thing on your mind: You needed to get out. Quick. You ran out as fast as you could, not caring if they heard your footsteps from inside the room.

Bitch.

Asshole.

Slut.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop even after you stepped into your home. Plopping down on the couch you looked up to the celling and stared at it. How could he. It was only yesterday when you comforted the crying boy. Only yesterday when he was sobbing onto your chest as he recounted the brutal fights he had to endure by the hands of her. He showed you the bruises and scars that covered his arms from how tightly she gripped onto them. The breath of booze lingering from the many bottles of alcohol he consumed before you came over. The-The…

You felt something rise up in the back of your throat.

Running into the bathroom you could feel whatever it was rise to your mouth. Without hesitation you let it out into the toilet, gagging in the process.

Ah.

Dead, decaying flowers.

It was terrifying to look at. The sight of dead flowers mixed in with vomit and spit wasn’t exactly the greatest sight. But you couldn’t stop staring at them. The slight tint of yellows and pinks reminded you of lilies, just like the ones Kenny liked to pick. The feeling wretched your gut. They would’ve been beautiful if they were alive and flourishing…but instead they were clogged in the bottom of your toilet. Accepting their demise.

Having a vague idea of what was happening-thank god for superstitious parents-you grabbed your phone and searched up the word. It took a few tries but finally it redirected you to the right definition.

[Hanahaki Disease]

“The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s throat will fill up with flower, they will then proceed to throw, and cough up the petals, (sometimes even the flowers). One of the only ways for the disease to ‘disappear’ is if, the said person returns the feeling (it can’t be resolved with friendship, it must be genuine feelings of love). The infection can also be removed through surgery, though the feelings disappear along with the petals. If they choose nether options, the patient…”

You didn’t have to read the rest. It was painfully obvious what would happen if you chose the latter. Sitting down on the hard tile floor your hands covered your face as you sobbed uncontrollably. You didn’t expect it to get this far but you realized what the only option was.

You needed to go through with the surgery.


End file.
